


Jiggy

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Silly, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 08:48:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11505876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Glorfindel helps Erestor with a puzzle from some dwarves.





	Jiggy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [avocado_bros_4thewin (mkblitz)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mkblitz/gifts).



> A/N: Fill for mrpineapple42’s “#3 puzzle Glorestor” request on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/) [from this list](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/162565904960/prompt-list-3). This is the screw-up version.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Silmarillion or The Lord of the Rings or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Erestor’s so focused that he barely hears the knock to his door—he’s only _just_ laid down the corner pieces. But he’s familiar enough with Glorfindel’s knock to know it in his sleep, and he calls, “Come in.”

Glorfindel does so, his gait and presence giving him away again without Erestor having to look. He hears the door shut and footsteps wandering closer, only to pause at his side. Erestor slides another thin piece into place and doesn’t allow any pause at all for satisfaction. Yet each new configuration is a small victory—it’s thoroughly difficult, and the dwarves were right when they cautioned him that this was no game for children.

Glorfindel’s handsome voice speaks above him, “I had come to ask you to lunch, now that your schedule is free of our Dwarven guests, but now I am more interested in what has you so occupied.”

“A gift,” Erestor answers, while sifting through the pile of unsorted pieces: a bland mix of peach, brown, and black. “Their leader presented it to me, supposedly as a thank you for my hospitality.” Now that he’s said it out loud, Erestor hesitates a moment, then adds, “Which is odd, for I was not particularly friendly.”

Glorfindel snorts, “You never are,” and Erestor glances back to shoot him _that look_. Glorfindel just grins, bright as Arien’s rays. His beauty is almost insufferable—wholly distracting. But Erestor doesn’t intend to waste his entire day on this and forces himself to turn back to his work. Best to just concentrate and finish swiftly. Glorfindel asks: “What is this puzzle of?”

“I do not know; they never told me. And they have cut it in such funny, unique little pieces that I find myself looking at them solely as individual shapes, rather than any kind of image as a whole.”

“Might I help?” Glorfindel asks, as Erestor knew he would. In this particular instance, Erestor welcomes the company—this has taken long enough.

“Certainly.”

Obligingly, Glorfindel fetches a chair from the far corner, carrying it over to take a seat at Erestor’s desk. Erestor shuffles over to allow the room, and Glorfindel’s long fingers immediately dip into the large stack of unused pieces. Erestor continues as he was. It’s merely a question of methodical stamina; if he keeps at this long enough, he will complete it, and he’s already completed too much to justify abandoning the cause. Besides, Lord Elrond would never forgive him if he were to spurn the gift completely. No doubt the dwarves will ask him how he liked it if they ever return, although, perhaps it’s equally likely that their mortal minds will have forgotten.

For a long while, he and Glorfindel work together, peaceful and quiet, the way Erestor likes things—or at least, usually prefers things, when he doesn’t have one issue or another to work out through sheer _fire_ with his partner. He has no doubt that Glorfindel will pester him for it afterwards—beg for a wild night to make up for this tedious day. If they manage to finish the puzzle, Erestor will happily oblige, figuring it his reward for such dedication to Lord Elrond’s guests. 

And Glorfindel’s presence, at least, does make the time thoroughly more _enjoyable_ , even when it’s subdued for Erestor’s benefit. He can feel Glorfindel’s warmth at his side, and occasionally their fingers brush in trying different fits, and often Glorfindel hums to himself: lilting little melodies that sound like the songs of birds. When at last they near the end, Erestor’s almost sad to see it over.

But a dozen pieces or so from the end, Glorfindel freezes suddenly. Erestor instantly recognizes the tension and turns to his lover, frowning in concern. Staring blankly at the desk, Glorfindel tells him, “Stop.”

Erestor answers simply, “I have.”

“ _Look_ ,” Glorfindel says, nodding at the puzzle. “Not at the pieces: at the picture.”

So Erestor does, curiously withdrawing his focus from the minute details to the sum total, only to pale and stiffen. 

Glorfindel makes a little noise beside him. The blood is rushing swiftly back to Erestor’s cheeks, now causing a vivid flush, and Glorfindel lets out a horrendous laugh while Erestor boils to the top.

He seethes, “Those _heathens_ ,” as he stares down at it, the thing he’s spent the better part of his day on: a crudely painted portrait of a Dwarven _cock_.

Glorfindel’s laughter has become hysterical, and Erestor has half a mind to flip the entire desk over. Wiping the corners of his eyes, Glorfindel chokes out, “I guess you were not so friendly after all, my love—they must have thought you were a real dick!”

“You will never speak of this to anyone,” Erestor hisses, already hurriedly taking the puzzle apart again. “And so help me, the next time we have any Dwarven guests at all, I shall relegate them all to Lindir.”

Glorfindel just keeps laughing as Erestor scoops the pieces into a little box to be taken off to burn.


End file.
